


Like Breathing

by Lliyk



Series: Fresh Air [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anticipation, Bisexual Aang (Avatar), Dirty Talk, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Kissing, M/M, Non-bending AU, POV Zuko (Avatar), Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk
Summary: Zuko meets Aang on a night out. He might consider keeping him.He fingers the rim of his tumbler absently as he watches hard sinewy muscle flex and twist under the flashing rainbow lasers, rendering each tattoo—arrows, Zuko can see them now,how fucking hot—an almost inhuman bioluminescent glow in the club’s alternating blacklight.The man is dancing alone, which Zuko thinks is a shame because he looks good enough to eat in those dark jeans and that citrine off-shoulder ensemble. There’s a thick gold chain swinging around the sharp jut of his collarbones as he dips his shoulders to the beat and Zuko has to catch his breath as he thinks of what it’d be like to have it between his teeth while he—Zuko tips his head back and downs the very last of his whiskey, depositing the empty glass on the nearest surface and slipping into the throbbing crowd.Talk first, he reminds himself.Nasty later. Hopefully.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Fresh Air [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012485
Comments: 19
Kudos: 130





	Like Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> do i have any business writing zukaang when [honorfall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543864)’s last chapter is almost done, [the cold will kill you first](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526994) is still under masterwork, and chapter 16 to [real war is far easier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25306660) needs to be scrapped and redone? 
> 
> the answer is no. no i do not.
> 
> beware: typos! **comments are ♡.**

* * *

Zuko feels his breath catch as his wandering gaze lands on a man with full body tattoos, right up to his brow, and a careless grin in the middle of the crowd.

“Uh-oh.” Toph says from his side. “I know that look.”

“You’re blind.” Zuko says airily, ignoring her—and her boyfriend, Sokka, who he’s just met, like, yesterday, so he has no real standing with Zuko—and the indignant squawk of reprimand they both give—in favor of stepping in the direction of the dance floor. He fingers the rim of his tumbler absently as he watches hard sinewy muscle flex and twist under the flashing rainbow lasers, rendering each tattoo— _arrows_ , Zuko can see them now, _how fucking hot_ —an almost inhuman bioluminescent glow in the club’s alternating blacklight.

The man is dancing alone, which Zuko thinks is a shame because he looks good enough to eat in those dark jeans and that citrine off-shoulder ensemble. There’s a thick gold chain swinging around the sharp jut of his collarbones as he dips his shoulders to the beat and Zuko has to catch his breath as he thinks of what it’d be like to have it between his teeth while he—

Zuko tips his head back and downs the very last of his whiskey, depositing the empty glass on the nearest surface and slipping into the throbbing crowd. _Talk first_ , he reminds himself. _Nasty later. Hopefully_.

His breath catches again as he’s sliding between people towards his goal. The man with arrow tattoos looks up suddenly, and Zuko swears his eyes flash white but he kicks himself because it’s just the lighting and he needs to _move_ because a girl who reminds him way too much of Sokka has her tongue half down some other short-haired girls mouth and is glaring at him for standing in their way. Zuko smirks and gives her a thumbs up, which manages to get returned to him between kisses, and he wants to do what _she’s_ doing so he kicks it in gear and lets himself fall into the heavy bass as he moves on.

“Hi.” He wastes no time as he slides into the tattooed man’s space and matches his pace. He is even more breathtaking up close; clear eyes that lock with his and a slow grin like rising sunshine, sharp, lightly scruffy jaw and a full mouth. Zuko pours the heat he feels into his gaze. “Dance with me?”

The slow grin on the man’s face flickers into something beautiful and wide. “Aren’t we already doing that?” He shouts over the music.

Zuko grins back and places a questioning hand near the man’s waist. The man nods encouragingly, twirling close and right into Zuko’s arms, back to chest and hip to hip and _fuck me he smells as good as he looks_. Summer winds and sunberries. Zuko’s mouth waters, and he places his hands on the man’s hips, tries not to trip over himself at how _right_ it feels to have them there.

He’s sinuous and quick and Zuko can hardly keep up with him through the next song. Zuko loves every second of it, the last of the whiskey working its way into his veins and then out of his system, replaced with burgeoning lust. The chain on the man’s neck is calling to Zuko with every metallic rattle. Towards the end of the song the bass tapers into something syrupy and suggestive, just what he needs as an excuse to spin the man around in his hold and fit his knee carefully between his thighs.

A strangled moan falls out of Zuko as he’s met with an equally hard cock and equally hooded eyes.

“Do you wanna—”

“Go?” The man guesses, nods. “Yes. Now. _Right_ now.”

Zuko takes his hand and laces their fingers, leads him west off of the dancefloor to the exit where he’s got his car parked. He’s suddenly super grateful that he did not tag along early with Toph like she’d wanted. She had a bad habit of getting crumbs everywhere and he’d just gotten his car detailed again.

On the way out he spots the girl he’d interrupted on the dance floor. She laughs and grins and makes a ‘ _call me’_ sign with her hand, which Zuko thinks is super weird because he’s obviously gay and obviously doesn’t know her, but then he hears laughter by his ear and sees his current conquest returning the hand motion with a smirk that almost makes him stop short.

“You know her?” He asks once they’ve stepped into the cool summer night. He leads them towards his car. “I’m Zuko, by the way.”

“Aang.” Aang smiles and Zuko nearly trips again. “Yeah, I know her. Katara’s my best friend as a matter of fact. I was supposed to meet her brother and his girlfriend tonight for... uh. Anyway, I got distracted...”

Zuko hums as he fishes his keys from his pocket with his free hand. He tries not to smirk in satisfaction when he sees Aang’s brows jump at the two-door coup that lights up at his press of a button. Best purchase of his life, no matter how much Toph insists that she’s still the ultimate wingman. 

“Distracted, huh?” Zuko mumbles, late, too busy watching the plump curve of Aang’s mouth, which is moving, so he blinks and listens, “—428i. Everyone thinks the 7 series is better but it’s like, _look_ at this thing—!” and the second Zuko realizes that Aang is _talking_ about _his car_ he grabs him by the waist and presses him against the passenger side door, melds their mouths together.

 _“Mm.”_ Aang fists his hands in Zuko’s tee and pulls him closer, chasing Zuko’s lips with his own. “Yeah. More of _this_ , please.”

“Please _what?_ ” Zuko asks carefully, testing the waters as he slides his hands lower. He shivers. There’s _muscle_ under that citrine shirt.

Aang makes an aborted sound and presses their hips together, pulling a hiss from between Zuko’s teeth. “Please, _Zuko_.”

Zuko lets out a breathless hum. “Aw, _fuck_.”

“ _Yes._ ” Aang bites at Zuko’s bottom lip, teasing. “I’d like that _very_ much.”

With a growl Zuko breaks their contact and steps away, tugs on the handle to his car door so that it opens and brings Aang right back into his space, close enough to lean in and whisper “After you, sunshine,” against the shell of his ear, like he wants.

Aang gives a sharp inhale. Zuko pretends to chase it with the tilt of his jaw, stopping his lips just short of a kiss, and then steps around him. He keeps his satisfied smirk to himself when he hears a muttered curse.

The car ride to his complex is short but enlightening. Aang spends the entire fourteen minute drive across downtown Ba Sing Se getting Zuko to tell him about the best places to eat in the city because he’s only been here a few weeks and is living on little more than basic vegan dishes until he secures his first check from his new job next month, and then about how the best things to do are in the middle ring because anything cool in the upper ring is invite only, and _somehow_ things about himself— _real_ things. Soul searching questions snatched between anecdotes on his university life and his thus far wayward attempts at making friends.

“I feel like we could be friends,” Aang says casually after a beat of wondrously comfortable silence. He’s sitting crossed legged in the passenger seat with one hand out the window, the other scrolling through Zuko’s Spotify. “anyone who actually likes the _Antares_ album like your rewind playlist suggests is definitely friendship material.”

“Completely underrated work.” Zuko says vehemently. His cheeks hurt. He hasn’t stopped grinning _once_. “I mean _Freedom?_ A productional masterpiece.”

“ _Yes_ , wow. Thank you, Zuko. I’ve been saying that for _years_ and nobody ever listens. How old were you when you got that scar by the way?”

It’s unexpected but Zuko guesses it shouldn’t be. Aang’s questions have been inching closer to curiosity about his youth, especially after Zuko’s passing mention about his sister attending the same college that Aang does. Zuko feeds him the line that he feeds everybody because he’s been answering that question for half his life and he’s long since come to terms with the way he’s changed after the incident.

“Tragic, I know.” Zuko answers wryly. He pulls them into the garage of his complex and makes a show of backing into his parking spot. “My sperm donor put this on my face when I was 13. Don’t worry though, he’s in jail where he belongs.”

“I guess that means I have to rule out breaking his arms.” Aang says, solemn. “Fuck him. He sounds awful.”

For once Zuko finds that the stunned silence that usually fills this part of the conversation is coming from _him._ He makes a grudgingly accepting face, though not unkind, as he opens Aang’s door for him.

“Thank you.” He says, because that’s all he can say. That’s his standard answer, admittedly, but somehow it feels different this time. Easy and right, like his hands on Aang’s hips on the dance floor.

Aang makes a face right back at him and folds his arms, catching Zuko’s gaze in the mirrored door of the otherwise empty elevator. “Why?”

Zuko lets out a bark of a laugh. People don’t need stickers for acknowledging things that are wrong but all his adult life Zuko’s been giving them out just to get people to move away from the sore topic. Aang continues to surprise him. 

The elevator lugs upwards, headed to the 20th floor, but Zuko keeps that to himself in favor of taking the opportunity to stop feeling so caught off guard. He takes his eyes away from Aang’s in the mirror and turns to drink in his profile from head to toe instead, letting the weirdly effortless affection he feels return some of the heat to his stare.

“I think you’re right,” he says slowly. “I think we can be friends.”

Aang looks at him and smiles. It’s fast to turn into a coy grin when Zuko crowds him against the elevator wall and languidly, pointedly, cages him in with his arms.

“I also think I’d like to finish what I started.”

A small moan sounds from Zuko when Aang simply melds their fronts together and slants his mouth over his, chaste, and then a second kiss with his tongue running the seam of his lips in question. With a breathless sigh Zuko opens up to him, tasting the faint trace of mango, from the last piece of candy he’d stolen from the middle console in his car. 

The next kiss is more of a fight, surprising Zuko in a way that makes his blood run south, swift and hot. Aang curls his tongue along his and then licks deeper, like he’s trying to steal Zuko’s air for himself. Zuko moans outright and presses back, lifting Aang’s thigh over his hip and grinding their jean clad lengths together, slamming him into the elevator wall. 

Aang breaks away from the kiss with a gasp and a low groan. The sound sends electricity scattering across Zuko’s gut.

“You like that, do you?” Zuko asks huskily.

Aang slides his leg down Zuko’s side and sends him a step back with a confident step forward, eyes dark and hooded and his mouth pulled into the smirk that’d had Zuko tripping over himself the first time. 

“I like a _challenge_.” He purrs.

Zuko swallows thickly, forcing himself to contain the shiver of primal delight that bolts down his spine. Aang’s words sound as sweet as sin. The elevator finally dings, and Zuko walks them down the hall with interlaced fingers again, grip firm in a silent promise to _deliver_. The foyer light flickers on, and the second the door to his condo clicks and beeps with the automatic lock he whirls on Aang, gripping him by the belt loops of his jeans and hauling him up against the foyer wall. Aang’s thighs spread without hesitation, and Zuko notes with no small amount of gratification that his ears and cheeks have started to flush.

Aang lets out the most beautiful little sound when Zuko runs his hands under his shirt and up his sides to hold him firmly by the waist, so that he can shift his hips forward in a deliberate, agonizing grind. The second Aang curls his fingers in Zuko’s hair and _tugs_ he loses all of his carefully crafted decorum. A growl rips out of him, and he tilts his head back to capture Aang’s mouth in a sloppy, open kiss that leans by the way of needy as he keeps up the rock of his hips. 

The friction of Aang’s cock against his from behind the fabric of their jeans is shudder inducing, draws heat to pool quickly in the dregs of Zuko’s stomach. 

Aang whines. “I wanna—”

“ _Fuck_?” Zuko fills in, voice gravely and low and hiding absolutely nothing. He smirks when Aang writhes and nods, gray eyes blown wide. “Condoms, yes or no?”

“I don’t need them if you don’t,” Aang says breathlessly.

“That’s a no, then.” Zuko lets him down and leads him through his dim condo and straight to the middle of his king sized bed. “I bet you feel as good as you look. Tell me: how far do these arrows go, hm?”

“As far as you think.” Aang kicks off his shoes and slowly turns onto his hands and knees, eyes never once leaving Zuko’s. Zuko licks his lips and sheds his own boots; his shirt and Aang’s and Aang’s jeans too.

“You can leave that on, sweetheart.” Zuko grumbles when Aang makes to unclasps his chain. “It’s perfect right where it is.”

Zuko watches Aang’s nostrils flare, smiles as he ghosts warm breath over the straining curve of Aang’s cock, still clothed in the red cotton of his boxer briefs. There is a growing patch of wet along the mouthwatering shape of it, and Zuko doesn’t resist licking at it through the fabric. 

Aang’s hips buck and Zuko immediately moves to hold him down, enjoying the desperate sound that gets him.

“Hands and knees again.” Zuko commands, slapping Aang’s thighs when he moves too slow. “I want you slick and ready and crying my name before you even _think_ about cumming.”

“Spirits, yes.” Aang hisses. “Yes, please, please—”

“Please _what?”_

“Please, _Zuko.”_

With deft hands Zuko peels back Aang’s snug boxers, mouth salivating at the supple curve of his ass and the way the sky-blue lines of his arrow tattoos dip and fit against the firm muscles of his thighs. Zuko presses fleeting kisses and nips right where the blue ink stops, at the space between inner thigh and taint.

Aang throws his head back and cries out, reduced to a loud mess in mere seconds. His thighs shake and his hole puckers. Zuko rewards him for calling out his name, darting out his tongue to circle imploringly over the cleft of Aang’s entrance.

Aang begs over his shoulder, blush spread down the inviting curve of his neck. “ _More_.”

He doesn’t oblige—because even though the begging goes straight to his cock and makes him want to bury it _deep_ , Aang said he wanted a challenge and Zuko planned to _give_ him one—just presses his tongue flat and licks a hot stripe from his center down the line of an arrow and reaches up to fondle his sac through his not-quite-off underwear. Aang’s body pulls taut, his hands flying to grip at the top edge of the duvet.

Zuko toys with him, pleased to hear his name turn into a cluster of incoherent sounds as he gives nothing but quick, dainty licks across his taint and the edges of his ink; makes Aang cant his ass higher into the air for more, his body arching tightly with the effort. Zuko grips and loosens Aang’s balls, enjoying a little too much how the hitched breath from every squeeze has him inching back further and further into his clutches. 

“I thought—” Aang babbles, knuckles white and pupils blown wide. “I thought you were going to fuck me?”

A growl builds in Zuko’s chest. He promptly nips at Aang’s thigh and laves his tongue along the curve of his rim, purposely sloppy, dipping in and swiping roughly at his walls. Aang shudders and bucks, and in place of a grin Zuko fixes his mouth to give a languid, hard suck instead.

The mangled cry that spills from Aang’s mouth is high and throaty and tapers off into a curse. Zuko hums in agreement as Aang shudders around him, but he isn’t finished—he’s found just what he’s looking for. He slips his tongue deeper, curls and presses as firm as he dares on the barely there slope of Aang’s prostate.

 _“Oh fuck. Fuck.”_ Zuko stills, waiting. “N-no. Why are you stopping?” Aang whines, trying to wriggle but Zuko’s still got him by the balls and he stops and moans at the warning tug Zuko gives. “Zuko?”

Zuko rewards him with a fleeting lick. Aang gasps and calls his name again in confusion, but Zuko only offers another fleeting press of tongue, encouraging. His cock is hard and heavy in his still zipped jeans, the confines growing impossibly tighter the second Aang catches on and starts murmuring his name like a litany of prayer. How he resists rutting into the edge of his bed he does not know.

“Zuko.” _Suck._ “Zuko!” _Press_. “Zuko, Zuko, _Zuko—“_

Aang collapses face first into the duvet and shakes with a guttural moan, tightens around his tongue, his loosened entrance trying to keep him there with every flutter in the wake of his orgasm. 

Zuko lets his mouth free and turns Aang over with gentle hands, pressing his shaking hips into the bed so that he can watch Aang’s brows furrow in tandem with the twitch of his reddened and swollen cock, still spilling and coating the sharpened _v_ of his navel with the last of his seed. 

“Beautiful,” Zuko mutters, dragging his fingers through a drop of cum and smearing it along his bottom lip. 

Aang sees, mouth parting and hazy gray eyes turning impossibly coal. Zuko grins, all teeth, and then crooks his fingers under Aang’s chain to tug him upwards so that he can kiss him, long and deep and _dizzy_ for being so good.

“You don’t accept challenges lightly, I see.” Aang rasps. Zuko lets a chuckle rumble out of him, staying Aang’s hand when he feels cool fingers play along the hem of his jeans. Aang sounds incredulous and disappointed all at once. “You still have pants on?” 

Zuko laughs outright. “You just now noticed?”

“I got distracted.” Aang mutters, playfully snappish, fingers slipping from Zuko’s hold and back to the hem of his pants. “Let me—”

“Oh, _no_. Hands where I can see ‘em, sunshine.” Zuko pins Aang by the wrists with one hand, knots the fingers of the other in Aang’s chain once more as he revisits the flash of the vision he’d had while seeking him out of the dancefloor. “I’m enjoying you too much to let you sit on my cock just yet.”

“ _Oh_.” A sultry grin splits Aang’s face, sends Zuko’s pulse scattering. “I think we’re going to be _great_ friends, you and I.” 

“Friends.” Zuko parrots gruffly. “Is that right?”

“Maybe.” Aang tilts his chin and looks at him with eyes that Zuko swears flash white. “ _Only_ , if you don’t kiss me.”

Zuko kisses him; and then again and again and again because even though it scares him a little how much he likes Aang it’s _easy_ to give into the sweet beckon of his plump mouth and the lilting cadence of his teasing tones.

“Zuko...”

 _Too easy_ , Zuko thinks warily even as he chases the sound of his name, head spinning and chest filling with warmth. _Easy, like breathing._


End file.
